The NeverEnding Battle Book 7:The Endless OR
by Gojirob
Summary: In December of 1954,the 4077th has an early post-war reunion in Tokyo. Things get bad when the army uses it for a PR stunt, then worse when Tokyo is under assault by a creature lifted from nightmares. The medics make a stand and aid the countless wounded.
1. The Endless OR

**The Endless O.R.**  
by Rob Morris

**Prologue - War Is Worse Than Hell**

In the mid-1940's, as a group of young men fought their way through medical school and their first residencies, a group of men barely older than them saved the world from evil. It was an unashamed evil, but a deceptive one. To this day advocates of this evil will tell you it was not evil at all.

Millions of young men would tell you differently. In German-held lands, at least 20 million would never speak again, all for lack of blond hair and blue eyes. It was a pervasive evil, and the steps taken to defeat it were, by definition, quite harsh.

Some were misguided. Many thousands of Japanese-Americans who couldn't even understand Tojo Hideki's Hitleresque message in their ancestors' language were told they were merely Japanese, not Americans. Hostile foreigners, to be treated as such.

Some were born of cruel necessity. The wartime alliance with Joseph Stalin would have its price in the building of an Iron Curtain only recently pulled away.

Some choices had the elements of all human endeavor: Fear, desperation, necessity, boldness, achievement and the striving to go further. Such a choice was the creation of weapons powered by the splitting of the atom. They would end the hot war, and start a cold one.

Oblivious to the young men emerging from medical school, the Doctors Henry Blake and Sherman Potter served in the Second World War, though field surgery would have drawbacks that would lead to a new innovation later on.

Oblivious to them, a young woman shuffled from military base to military base, in the company of her parents, while she and other young women thought about helping to end human suffering as nurses-it was a different time.

Oblivious to anything human, an anachronism, a creature well out of its time, shook off wounds on an island called Lagos, and slumbered in an under-island grotto. It was an herbivore, a peaceful creature content to feed off the algae that grew so well in this part of the South Pacific. It was called Gojirasauronus Gigantis, or plainly, Godzillasaurus. Long ago, its kind had been forced to flee the ancient game reserve known as Skull Island, where one of its ancestors had slain the parents of the Mighty Kong. It didn't know this, or care. It was healing, it was cool, and it was well-fed.

In 1950, war came. It was a limited war, but not to the people of Korea. It was not limited in scope in the eyes of the soldiers who gave their youth and lives to fight it.

Ironically, some of the worst of it was seen by those who cleaned up after battles were done. The new innovation in medical treatment during wartime was the Mobile Army Surgical Hospital. One such hospital unit was the 4077th. The times at the 4077th MASH are well-documented.

Well-known are the showers that may as well have been transparent.

Well known was the clownish surgeon, butt of a billion practical jokes he seemed at times to be begging for.

The first CO, so confused when he was there, and so mourned when he was gone.

The Second CO, straightforward son of the Show-Me State, with a library's worth of colorful remarks.

There was the naive Corporal who was that place's glue.

There was the streetwise Corporal who surrendered his dignity in a parade of efforts that never did net him a Section 8.

Lastly, there were the Nurses, and the Doctors. Their loves, their hates, their minds, their souls-in the charge of one very tough Priest-are romantic, compelling visions of an age that at times only feigned innocence. Most important, and not to be neglected, was this simple fact - Better than 9 out of 10 wounded people entering the 4077th lived to tell about it. They were healers, one and all. Their Chief Surgeon even regarded Death as his personal enemy, a vendetta so fierce, most feel it played a role in his eventual mental breakdown, right before war's end.

But Hawkeye Pierce and his friends left that place in 1953, having helped innumerable lives to continue. But there was one wounded being they didn't know about, and couldn't have helped if they did. This was a damned pity.

In 1951, while Major Houlihan fumed over innuendo that Captain McIntyre had used in surgery, while Frank Burns typed another report, while Henry Blake explained Pierce's actions to yet another General, and while Max Klinger strung together a cot to put underneath a helicopter, the dinosaur on Lagos Island was under brutal assault.

The first Hydrogen Bomb on a nearby island was a success, another step up in the Cold War. Life for miles around was simply blanked out. To many, it seemed the ultimate destroyer. This was wrong on its face.

In its grotto, the Dinosaur's flesh was sizzled off, its bones powdered, and its internal organs pulped. Only its cartilage remained, tougher than a hundred tanks. The cartilage mutated, absorbing the radiation, sparing Lagos a future of complete lifelessness.

But the reborn creature was in agony. It wanted two things only: To lash out, at anything and everything, and to find more of what had changed it.

It was now a radiovore, and it hungered. Being unstoppable, it would be fed no matter what the cost.

In June of 1954, an early reunion was planned by the staff of the 4077th. Eventually, top military brass, seeking publicity, would contact their old friend Sherman Potter and persuade him to have his people delay this reunion till December, where the men and women would be relocated at Army expense to Tokyo. In Tokyo, newsreel cameras would be running. So would everyone be.

Despite reluctance on the part of some, the plans were made, and Tokyo awaited the healers with open arms. They would arrive, but they wouldn't do so alone. Further, they would never be the same.

**Chapter 1 - Over The Waters, Beneath The Sea**

It was a large military transport aircraft. Too large to be used for its intended purpose. Horse-trading in the U.S. Senate was responsible for the creation of a transport so large, it was more target than resource. There were really only two uses for it. One, to bring troops to a site that was already largely secured. Of course, by the time that all enemy AA batteries had been nailed down, the need for that many troops was questionable. Also, a sniper could probably target the thing's brobdingangian fuel tank with one eye closed. So the main result of this budget-closer, the brainchild of Senate Majority Leader Lyndon Johnson and the new rich kid from Massachusetts, was to zip people back and forth for events.

This particular event should never have required any such transport. First, the overwhelming majority of the people being shuttled were civilian, many of them not even reservists. Secondly, the event in question had started out very small in scope.

April, 1954

Meeting at a diner-style seafood restaurant in Augusta, Maine, the world's unlikeliest and yet most inevitable couple were having brunch prior to what the woman called *Close-order drill*. They were trying to meet more and more to get their relationship going. They stumbled and fell more often than not.

But, since most of Hawkeye Pierce's and Margaret Houlihan's relationship had consisted of grade-school antics, this adolescent-style one was actually a vast improvement.

"How...many of them were you really with?"

"Margaret, you don't want to know that."

"That many, huh?"

"If I say the number was close to 100, can we move on? This kind of conversation is set to explode."

"100? There weren't that many nurses during our entire time there. Someone is exaggerating to pad their ego."

If it weren't for his pride and the gorgeous, cocky smile Margaret wore, Hawkeye would have known enough to let it go.

"Sorry, honey, but that wasn't a counting number, so much as a percentage. Now, can we..."

"No, we cannot! 100%? How could even you...Typical, Pierce. That number exceeds our patient recovery rate! Why you feel the need to brag..."

Before Hawkeye could retort, Margaret caught herself and remembered who had asked who about what.

"I'm sorry, darling, it's just..."

"No, Margaret, it's not just! To me or to you! Except for Kelly, Able, and Baker, and maybe Dish, I barely can discern between names. The other nurses and I got along because we could all die tomorrow. Most of them probably wouldn't know me from the neighborhood lush. It was a way of getting by. You wrote reports, Radar had his animals, and Klinger played at being the Countess Of Monte Cristo. We all did what-and who-we had to."

"I said I was sorry! Its only that ...should we all just forget each other, in order to forget that place? We said we were family. But it's been less than a year, and it feels like three. Hawkeye, I loved those girls like they were my own sisters. And I know you loved them for more than just their bodies."

"Well, of course. You can't-ya know-24 hours a day. The only time we even tried that was right after we lost Spear Chucker, Duke, and Ugly John. We were nuts from grief. We couldn't even tell people we knew them. I do love those ladies, and I hate the thought of not knowing about their careers, their kids, whatever...but what are we supposed to do? I mean, it's a little early for a reunion, Margaret."

"Is It?"

May, 1954

"Sherman T. Potter, here."

"Colonel? This is Peg Hunnicutt, out in San Francisco."

"Ah, the lovely Mrs. H! What can I do you for, Peg?"

"Well, sir, Margaret Houlihan contacted me, and..."

"Did that dunderhead Pierce finally propose to her, or did she belt him again?"

"Neither, Colonel. She and Hawkeye said that we should all try and get together this July, on the 1st anniversary of the war's end. My hubby-who now has a bruise on his arm-kinda volunteered me to put it all together, since I did it for the families' get-together in New York."

"Well, by all means, count me and Mildred in, and I'll betcha Max and Soon-Lee will be tickled pink at the thought. The Padre's been feelin' a mite nostalgic, as well. By the by, Max is out of the psych ward. Lad finally seems to have his head on straight, praise be."

"Oh, I knew you'd all come, Colonel, but that's not why I called. Look, we need a hall-preferably a big VFW somewhere, to hold this in. BJ said half the Generals in the Pentagon went through basic with you."

"Knew em' when they were the ones sayin' no General was worth a tinker's damn. Peg, consider the phone call placed. A big, bee-you-ti-full VF-typeW will be the 4077th's USA auxiliary."

June, 1954

In Washington to testify about the recent chaos at General Pershing Veterans' Hospital in River Bend, Missouri, Sherman T. Potter knocked on the office door of General George Johansen. Potter had served with him and his late brother Ferdie during the First World War, and they had broken out of the same POW camp together, with the help of medic Duncan Macleod. He hoped Georgie would have the answers about the reunion hall. No one else had.

"Sherm, you old snitch! How's the testimony goin' ?"

"Aaah, the usual, Georgie. Wally Wainwright was embezzling the place blind. He and his crew are gone, thankfully. But right now, we have no administrator. That's not why I'm here, though, General."

"Aaah, yes. Your reunion. Sherm, I placed a call and found out that your request got-re-routed."

Potter started to feel the blood drain from his face. Re-routed was a nice way of saying that someone, somewhere, who had no right to say anything about it, had gotten a *brilliant* idea about how something "should" be done.

"You outrank me, Georgie, so forgive my lack of respect when I ask by what moron's authority?"

"Tacken in recruitment. He wants newsreel cameras running as the 4077th has its get-together. He's adamant, Sherm. And there's more."

"With 'Tacky' Tacken, there usually is, Georgie! Does he understand the people involved-at all? They are not what you might call Recruitment Poster materiel."

"You know old Tacky, Sherm. Thought capturing the Kaiser's helmet would get him First Lieuie. Nearly got his butt shot off, all for a prop. Old Wilie never carried the real thing with him. Full of ideas, our Tacky-or full of something. He knows that your people were Iconoclasts- to put it mildly. He wants to show young people a different Army, and in a different setting. Tell, me, Colonel-your people were always fond of Tokyo, weren't they?"

"Course. Make it to Seoul, that's good. Make it to Tokyo, then the war is somewhere else. That's kind of a given, General. What's Tokyo got to do with our little shindig?"

"It's where your Reunion is going to take place, Colonel."

Potter now felt the blood rushing back to his face.

"Now, look, Georgie. I'm regular Army. I dance where I'm told. But this is a private affair, and the Army has got to keep itself back. Just give us an available VFW hall, and some reimbursement fundage for travel expenses, like we requested, and all's well."

"Sherm? Do you think I want to play with you like this? I raised all those objections, to Tacky. But he says he's gonna cut you off at the pass until you give in. Now, it'll be all on the Army's Tab, and you'll leave day after Thanksgiving. Staff only, no spouses, I'm afraid. But it'll be great. We'll gather ya, then bring you all back. Now waddya say, Sherm?"

"I'm still regular Army. If I told you what I have to say, I'd be shot for TREASON!"

With that, Potter stormed out. Within a month, the Reunion had gathered such steam, though, that the lack of a hall was intolerable. General Tacken was as good as his word, even blocking off a few non-VFW venues. Surprisingly, Pierce was the one who urged giving in.

"Look, Colonel, I don't like it, either, but, ya know, we gotta go through with this. Everybody's calling me to find out when and where. Just exact two promises from these people, and I'll corral the stragglers."

"Georgie? Sherm? We'll do it. But two things, in writing. One-Never Again. I don't care if Harry, Ike, AND Doug want it, our get-togethers are OUR bulwark, from here on in. Two-Oh, well. Did you now? Well, yours truly being made the new Chief Administrator of Pershing General was the second thing. What an interesting Co-inky-dinky-doo that you all had the same idea!"

Hanging up, Potter felt both a little unclean, and a little refreshed. He had made his deal, and would allow himself to enjoy the benefits. For months now, he had put up with the inane stupidity at the Veterans' Hospital. Now, he would move like he had thought of since coming home.

"Max? With the exception of yourself, the Padre, and Doc Taylor, review all personnel files. If they can be fired, fire em. If they can't, transfer em'! We're cleaning house, son."

Max Klinger smiled a bright smile. The Colonel was back.

"Yes, Sir! It seems our little aftermath is finally coming together."

Despite himself, Max would enjoy firing a certain secretary who felt it was her sworn duty to test his marriage vows. He would enjoy telling Soon-Lee even more. To him, she was the most beautiful thing on Earth. He wondered why she worried about competition.

December 27, 1954

The reunion was delayed until after Christmas. But now, all were assembled aboard the large plane. Lacking their spouses was rough, but they'd dealt with that before. Two things that two people couldn't deal with were the confined spaces and the loud roar of the powerful engine. They needed a distraction. They, of late, found that distraction - in one another.

"Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Margaret?"

"The engine is getting to me. Is the lack of space getting to you?"

"Very much so."

"Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Margaret?"

"Wanna make out?"

"I thought you'd never..mmmhh!"

As the new couple's lips locked, a lonely Frank Burns watched as his former lover and former Chief Tormentor went at it. He was determined not to make a fool of himself at the reunion, so he turned away. He walked over and found someone he hadn't met before-his replacement, Charles Emerson Winchester the Third.

While Frank tried hard to be more human, Sydney Freedman, occasional psychologist for the 4077th, saw Radar O'Reilly shivering in the corner.

Concerned, Freedman went to speak with the young man. He was concerned because he liked Radar, but also because they shared a secret. Like their friends Connor and Duncan Macleod, Sydney and Walter were Immortals. Sydney was nearing 2000, while Radar had only died two years ago, and then awoke Immortal. Radar's face told Sydney that the boy's weird senses-his "Radar"-sensed something-something bad.

"Walter, what is it? Do you sense one of us? I don't think anybody on the plane.."

"Doctor Freedman, I'm feelin' somethin'. But it ain't one of us, and not a Wamphiri-guy, neither. Its...BIG! Its hurtin, too. I think...its headed for Tokyo. Oh, we gotta turn back."

"Radar. The position we're over right now is near where Colonel Blake's plane was shot down. Could you be sensing that? Your senses are a lot different than the rest of us, remember."

"I spose' so. Jeez, life was a lot clearer fore' I got myself killed."

As the plane made its approach toward Japan, on Oto Island, a reporter named Stephen Martin heard an old legend of a powerful beast. In Okinawan, it was "Gorilla-Whale", or Gujira. Struggling with the dialect, Martin simply wrote one word in his ledger : GODZILLA.

That night, terrible storms struck Oto Island-and something-emerged from the sea. Like Radar, it had fond memories of a simpler life. Unlike the young man, though, it had the power to bring about the fall of all creation. And it would use that power.

**Chapter 2 - The Reunion and The Reptile December 28, 1954 -Early Morning on Oto Island**

"Not what you had planned for, eh, Steve?"

Reporter Stephen Martin's friend, a former aide to the great and tragic Admiral Yamamoto, had a very Japanese bearing, but a positively British talent for understatement. With the natives of Oto Island in an uproar, claiming that a monsoon on two legs named Godzilla had wrecked their homes and poisoned their wells, this was indeed not what he expected.

All in all, he'd rather have been home, seeing if Cousin Perry was going to win his first case as a Defense Attorney. But his editor, George Taylor, had insisted he go to Asia, to investigate the massive disruptions of shipping around the Sea Of Japan. He was at least able to get out of his other assignment.

"No, my friend, this is not what I had in mind. But if some sort of Jurassic leftover actually exists, here on Oto, then it'll make Carl Denham's Kong look like a monkey's uncle."

Since Skull Island had sunk into the sea, back in 34', no one had been able to confirm Denham's accounts that said King Kong was from a place full of dinosaurs. Whatever lived here, on Oto, would be utterly confirmable. More, Stephen Martin could repay a debt to an old friend, by granting him an exclusive look at the creature.

"I'm told, Steve, that Yamane-San was quite pleased that you passed the news to him first. Will Serizawa-San also grace us with his presence?"

"I'm afraid not. Serizawa's scarring keeps him out of the public's view. But Dr. Yamane will be here, as they say, with bells on. Wild horses, and all that!"

Once, in strictest confidence, Dr. Serizawa had told Martin that his scarring came from analysis of bacteria lifted from meteors taken from a site in Korea. The place had been a POW camp, but when Stephen tried to find it, he got stymied by talk of classified material. The only thing officially on that site-ever-was a MASH-a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, the 4077th.

Ironically, it was a reunion of that same Unit, to be held in Tokyo, that he had ditched to be on Oto Island. He was a good reporter, and felt that covering a bunch of over-happy, drunken medics preening for newsreel cameras was beneath him. Suddenly, Stephen Martin and his friend had their reverie broken by a sound of thunder.

Back in Tokyo, those same medics were neither drunk nor happy. Everyone seemed on the surface to get along well enough. But the only one who seemed genuinely pleased was the event's organizer, General Tacken. His old acquaintance Sherman Potter was going to do his best to change all that.

"Well, well, Colonel Potter! How is it going? My boys sure put a lot of attention to detail here, didn't they? Bet you folks appreciate it. Any problems, though? No need to make an unhappy newsreel!"

"General, I can honestly say on behalf of my former command, that, except for the fact that you have commandeered our 1st Reunion, relocated it on the other side of the globe, didn't allow our loved ones to come with us, packed us all into a single transport, AND put us up in barracks instead of hotels, that absolutely everything is hunky and dory."

The Colonel's sarcasm rode a wave straight over Tacken's head. He put two thumbs up.

"Aces, Sherm! Aces! Wait'll ya see the food! Quite a spread!"

While walking over to place flowers by a picture of Henry Blake, Sherman Potter wondered if he shouldn't sell drilling rights to the General's head next time he visited Texas.

Across the makeshift Hall from one another, BJ Hunnicutt and Trapper John McIntyre exchanged harsh stares. This was not their first meeting. It had taken Hawkeye Pierce's direct intervention to keep the two from each others' throats. As it stood, both San Francisco Bay Area Surgeons might one day be friends. Today, however, was not that day.

"Hey, BJ, are we good?"

"If you're asking me whether or not I'm going to start another fight, Trapper, then the answer is yes, we're good for now."

"How's Hawk holding up?"

"Well, so far, he's good, too. He stopped talking to his invisible friend, anyway, as soon as things were settled."

Neither McIntyre nor Hunnicutt would admit this to him, but it was only because of their concern for Hawkeye's sanity that the recent unpleasantness had been settled amicably. All his barely-lucid talk of time-travel and invisible friends had sobered the two up and made them put aside their considerable differences for their friend's sake. Still in all, it had been rough. Very rough.

"I'm glad to hear that, BJ. Really. If he starts in again, though, I'm tellin' Sidney."

"Trapper, on that, and only that, we're agreed. How's about we steer clear, though? This is a big room, and there's lots of people we can talk to besides us."

Trying desperately to avoid starting in again, Trapper nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan ta me."

It was a credit to these two men that, despite the images of chairs being broken and tables overturned and scores settled running through their minds, that they did in fact steer clear of one another-for as long as they could.

Some people, however, did not know when they were annoying the living hell out of another human being. One such man was Frank Burns. The now-constant subject of his attentions was Doctor Charles Emerson Winchester the Third. Not quite believing all the stories about Lieutenant Colonel Burns, Charles had been gracious and attempted to chat with Frank on the plane over. Now, to see Winchester's face, you could see he was a believer.

"D-hhaoctor Burns, I never said we SHOULD have made use of the Atomic Bomb in Korea, meehrly that we should have allowed General MacArthur the negotiating option of it. One cannot expect to actualllly use such powers without retaliation."

"Hey, MacArthur didn't bluff, pal! When it came to the Big A, he'd either use it or lose it. What's the point in having the power of the Hydrogen Bomb if we never touch the darned thing?"

"Doctor-Frank, there are cerhtain things one never does, just because one can. Surely you know your H.P. Lovecraft, and the folly of seeking power for its own sake?"

"Lovecraft? Nah, I'm not into that Porno filth. Give me movies where people keep their clothes on, friend!"

"Be-heee that as it may, Doctor, my point is, the civilian sector could have suborned the military without humiliating one of the greatest military minds in history. Truman could have had MacArthur as his staunchest ally, but was too stubborn to see a third path."

"Here, here. Yeah, that little piano-player just about ruined everything there was to ruin. Heh! Good thing we've got a man like Ike, now."

"No, no! Again you misapprehend me, Doctor Burns. I did not vote for Truman either, but I feel, given what he was facing, he did a passably competent job. I, too, am glad that General Eisenhower now sits in that office. But you, Sir, would do well to show proper respect for all those who have held that office-well, perhaps not Harding, but thennn..."

"You know, I am a Lieutenant Colonel. You are still just a Major, buddy! Howzabout some proper respect aimed in YOUR direction? Er, I mean, aim it at me...I think."

"I am an inactive resarvist, 'Colonel' Burns. Even if ,though, I should have the graaaave misfortune to serve under you as a Buck Private, I should like to think that I would still deliver this message to you: Get back from me, You Sad, Strange, Pathetic Little Willy-Worm of a Man! Get gone from my sight and darken my door no furthar!"

With that, Winchester stalked off. Without rank to back Frank up, he had been told off by quite a few people, this day. Charles, who did not know Frank, was his last hope. Burns wandered the hall, lightly sobbing. If it had not been for the wreck of his home life, he would never have come.

His cries did not go unnoticed.

"Should I try, Margaret?"

Margaret Houlihan looked up at her current love from her chair.

"Most of them, he had coming, Hawkeye. But for a few of those remarks and pranks...well, honestly, honey, you do owe him. But tread carefully and be gentle, that's all I ask."

Bravely, Hawkeye Pierce went over to awaken the Frank Burns he had seen only briefly during the war; the human being, underneath the bluster and pain. Problem was, with Frank, that it was less a simple wake-up and more of a ritual summoning.

As Pierce walked over, trying to figure out the right words to banish the monster, so to speak, a thousand other conversations took place. Most of them had nothing at all to do with the 4077th's senior staff. There were lovers who finally broke it off, and lovers who couldn't. There were grudges buried and renewed.

In at least two cases, young women presented young men they had known with pictures of children with familiar faces. There was a casual denial of responsibility, and an equally casual proposal of marriage. Ironically, the delighted young woman who was proposed to was lying; the one who was asked how many lovers she had was telling the truth.

Incidents were recalled, to joy and regret.

Almost everyone had a story of where they were when the news about Colonel Blake came.

Zelmo Zale forged a strong business partnership in the hall that would one day lead to a Fortune 500 company. His new partner was one Luther Rizzo.

Max Klinger was civil enough toward everyone, and good-naturedly accepted dress jokes, even from Zale. For the most part, though, he stared and stared and stared at a picture of his wife Soon-Lee, and never ceased to marvel at how much it hurt to miss her.

Carefully, discussions began about the many health problems that a number of them and their children had been having. They wondered if it didn't have something to do with the war, and the grim times they had all been ordered never to speak upon.

Finally, Pierce felt he had the words to calm Frank Burns down, and let him have a good time, while he was there. He approached the nervous surgeon.

"Frank?"

"Yes, Pierce?"

"Why don't you just...calm down and... have a good time, while you're here, ya know?"

"Well, gee. You think so? Honest Injun?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, alright, then!"

Burns calmed down, and with everyone having vented at him, he became part of the larger conversation on the floor. He even hit it off with quite a few people.

Meeting in the middle of the floor were Pierce, Houlihan, Potter, Hunnicutt, McIntyre, Winchester, Klinger, Radar, and Sydney Freedman. They all stared over at the apparently reborn Frank Burns, and, without meaning to, all uttered the exact same question about this turn of events.

"That Worked?"

On Oto Island, a face stared over a hill. But it wasn't standing on top of the hill; it was standing behind it. It was the face of something impossible. Nature's perfect killing machine married roughly with mankind's perfect doomsday machine. It was not a face that Doctor Keiyho Yamane, his daughter Emiko, or Stephen Martin would ever be permitted to forget.

It was the face of Godzilla. It then departed Oto Island, making way for a destination no one could precisely guess, with the exception of Radar O'Reilly, who had felt the beast's coming for hours, now.

"General, there has got to be a mistake! This food is-is-"

"Ain't it great, Sherm? I had to search high and low, but I found it. This is the typical diet of the 4077th MASH. Liver, Fish, Corned Beef Hash , and Chipped Beef! They don't serve this exact meal, anymore. You guys are soooo lucky."

As the General smiled, everyone - including Frank and Hawkeye - stood in dumb silence. No one had expected this particular *spread*. While the radio played music over the loudspeakers, Father Francis Mulcahy looked up and quietly said something to his employer.

"Forgive me. Please. But is there possibly any way this day could be made any worse?"

Just then, the music silenced, and news came over-grim news.

"This just in to the Armed Forces Radio Network. Reports are confirmed of a large dinosaur-like monster emerging from Japan's Oto Island. Possibly 200 feet tall and believed to be radioactive, this giant strange creature is called Godzilla. The Great Fear is, the monster may be headed directly for Tokyo Bay. More news will be delivered as we receive it. The Armed Forces Radio Network now resumes its program of music with the immortal *Stardust*."

For 15 minutes, absolutely no one spoke.

All waited for someone, maybe BJ or Trapper, to yell, 'Gotcha!'. But this never happened. For good reason. It wasn't a joke. Sidney Freedman looked over at Radar, who grimly nodded his head. This was what O'Reilly had felt over the Sea of Japan, on the trip over. When someone finally spoke, it was again Father Mulcahy, and again he looked up.

"You do realize I meant that whole 'day getting worse' thing in a purely rhetorical sense?"

**Chapter 3 - What's Mine Is Yours, and Tokyo Bay Is Mined!**

Shortly after 2AM , December 29, 1954

At different places and on different levels, the city of Tokyo was preparing for a possible assault by the mutated dinosaur known as Godzilla. They knew nothing of it, except that it was big, and that anything that big in a crowded city of eight million souls was bad news.

The news would simply get worse, leading some to ask questions. Some questions, and some answers were more worthwhile than others. In the face of a disaster that no city planner had made contingencies for since the Hyborian Age, however, all q's and a's seemed SOL. Much as Tokyo itself would soon be. For all this, the questions continued to be asked, with much vigor.

"What do you mean, they can't transport us out? It was easy enough for them to put their hand in our face, and get us into Tokyo. It was stunningly easy to put us up in unused barracks, and give us this stellar cuisine. When it came to running interference against us running our own reunion, there was no trouble. But now? Wait a minute, guys. Now we have a problem. With all respect, Colonel, we want to go home. Strike that. We want to go BACK home! All of us *civilians*, the dumb jerks who gave in at my even dumber request. I owe these people an apology, and the Army owes us all a ride stateside."

Hawkeye Pierce was, as always, more than somewhat brusque toward and disrespectful of authority, even if that authority's hold over him had technically expired. He retained his ability to raise his old CO's dander, and casually bring the crowd to his way of thinking. But in this case, he was also completely correct. Problem was, there was not a damned thing Colonel Sherman T. Potter could do about it. He wanted to desperately, but he had no authority here.

From the start, all their authorities, rights and privileges had been trampled. A small get-together of steaks, wine, and companionship, with the biggest problem being screaming little ones, bored out of their minds. That was the plan.

Sherman respected the Army, both the institution and the people. He knew it was no coincidence that so many of America's greats had served in the United States Military. He knew Harry Truman would do well as FDR's successor, because he had served with the man in WW1. You learned who people were, under such adversity.

But the institution he loved so well sometimes caused him to have an opinion of it so low, it made Pierce's tirades seem like The Star Spangled Banner. He was the first to admit, that when the army was wrong, it was wrong. When it set out to be wrong, though, things usually went way wrong. This was seven of those times.

"Hawkeye, everyone, I'm sorry. That's all I can tellya is, I'm sorry! The transport we used to get here is unavailable, now. Until they locate and depth-charge that economy-sized lizard, only certain people are leaving. Now, the good news is, the Japanese Self-Defense Force is pretty sure that they can, using the charges, kill Godzilla."

Trapper John spoke next.

"Not to be a wet blankie, Colonel, but exactly what is the bad news? More chipped beef? Where is that Tacken character, anyway? I want to give him a piece of my mind, if I can spare it!"

"Sorry, McIntyre. Tacky and certain other high-ranking officials are hightailing it out Tokyo on the next available plane. And before any of you ask, yes, it is the plane we all came in on, packed like sardines. But that's not the bad news. The bad news is, that, should the depth-charges fail...the US forces in Asia will be unable to act against Godzilla. Seems that China and the two Koreas are acting antsy with one another, and things are pretty tense, over there. The public story is that any movement of US forces might be seen as an act of war."

Now Margaret Houlihan asked her question.

"Colonel, how can that be? Japan can't defend itself against an atomic dragon, for pity's sake! Can't the Army send a small force to back up the SDF?"

"No, Major. None. Not even a consultant. You see, the private story is pretty nasty. I spoke to your General friend, Pierce. The guy from the Peace Talks, remember? He clued me in to the real deal, and like I'm sayin', it ain't pretty."

Hawkeye did remember the one General he had ever really liked, and the way the man had excused Pierce's barging in to the Peace Talks at Panmunjom.

"What did he have to say, Colonel? I mean, I'm not big on tanks and bombs, but in the face of Godzilla, it almost seems to make sense."

The assembled crowd in the overstuffed hall shifted once again. A good reunion with some bad moments was rapidly losing all remaining luster. Hawkeye advocating military force didn't help calm the sense of the surreal taking over the normal world.

"Brace yourself, folks. He told me that the three countries in question are all working together to make damned sure US forces do not engage the monster. Despite their differences, the two Koreas are of one mind on this, and China's with them."

BJ Hunnicutt found that notion loathsome.

"Colonel, that doesn't make sense. What do they want, anyway? Why wouldn't those countries want Japan's capitol to survive? If that thing is 200 feet, then it could cause damage like we've never seen, just by walking through."

Radar interrupted, "Uh, I heard on the radio they think it's really more like 175 feet, BJ."

Just to release tension-and there was a lot of it-Hawkeye shot back, "Well, what's 25 feet between fiends?"

Potter took in his breath before answering further. What he had to say next troubled him deeply.

"It is currently believed that these three countries, which were hurt badly by Japan not too long ago, still want revenge for the goings-on during the Big One. I use the term *goings-on* quite loosely, because we forget what the Axis powers did, back before we put paid to Tojo and Uncle Adolf. Those folks have legit gripes, but this is a helluva time to be tryin' for payback. So, bottom-line...no US troops."

Frank Burns raised his hand, and Potter acknowledged.

"Uh, people? We're all being worry-warts! I mean, depth charges can poke holes in submarines. How can this-thing-possibly survive that?"

Wishful thinking is a wholly human trait, not limited at all to Frank Burns. Within the hour, the Reunion had resumed, and Radio Tokyo announced the operation had been a success; best evidence showed that the depth charges had killed Godzilla, lying there in Tokyo Bay. A grateful city slowly came back to life.

But a bespectacled young man merely stared out at the Bay, knowing what was still out there. In favor of his nerves, though, even Hawkeye did not pay attention to Radar's brooding, which turned into his falling asleep in a chair. The former company clerk mumbled in his sleep.

"Darnit...know you're out there... whaddya mean, this is your place?...Hey, I didn't drop nothin on ya, ya big creep...No, ya shouldn't. That plane-it's got generals and other big people. What's that light comin' from your MOUUTHHH!"

Faster than anyone could see, Hawkeye was by Radar's side. Even he wondered how he moved that quickly, but was more concerned about his young friend.

"Radar-wake up! C'mon, kid, you're just having a nightmare."

Shivering, O'Reilly looked around. He was no longer at the bottom of Tokyo Bay. But he didn't feel any better for it.

"It wasn't a nightmare, Hawkeye. Colonel, Godzilla just killed the people on that plane. The one with the General who set up this dumb reunion. I tried to stop him, but I failed ya! I'm so sorry, Colonel."

Potter didn't wish to embarrass himself or Radar, but knew that the lad must be tormented by images of planes crashing. Henry Blake had been like his father. The Colonel briefly let Radar cry on his shoulder, then spoke.

"Walter-I know how ya felt about Colonel Blake, but it was just a dream. Godzilla is dead, Son. Tacky and his band of wastrels are probably on Okinawa, figuring out ways to get around the promise I got from him, not to do this again. It's all right! Really."

Radar sat down in his chair and shook his head. The young man was seemingly ranting.

"You're wrong, sir! All of you are! It wouldn't matter if our guys were here! If everybody's army was here! We ain't got nothin' that can stop Godzilla! Nothin' at all! He's hurtin' and he's comin here to make sure everybody else hurts, too!"

Before some unkind remarks could be made, Max Klinger stepped in.

"You're crazy, Radar. Look, we're pals, right?"

"I spose so, Max."

"Sure we are! One, you're still one big ache from your dopey wife ditching you on your honeymoon. If Soon-Lee left me, I wouldn't need a dress-cause they'd know I was nuts. That little vixen hurt my pal, and I ain't forgivin' that, ever. You just need time. It's her loss, not yours. Two, if that oversized iguana shows its face here, I'll betcha six shots from a 46mm cannon sends him to Dinosaur Heaven. Who knows, maybe he'll even get caught in traffic, stuck on the bridge. C'mon, lighten up. You're around nearly all the people that love ya, ya dope!"

Max's efforts were goodhearted, but wrongheaded, opening an old wound as they did. Radar's mentor, Sidney Freedman, knew that the former Mrs. O'Reilly had left her husband upon finding out that he would always be 21, while she grew older and died, as most mortals tend to. It was one of a couple of handfuls of drawbacks to the life of an Immortal.

Sydney also knew, as did Potter, and the Padre, that Radar's senses were not just vague feelings. If the current Ottumwa police officer felt the creature's presence, then it was alive. As Trapper then demonstrated.

"Hey, Hawk, BJ. You catchin this? Is that a crane out in the water?"

"If it is, it's awful close to that cruise ship. Noisy, too. Wait a minute, Peg's brother owns a construction company, and cranes...don't have arms! Do they? Trapper? Hawk?"

Hawkeye Pierce said nothing. The moonlight, where he was standing, afforded him an unparalleled view of Godzilla. Years later, a shadowy, psychotic figure with a fondness for Cigarettes would try to intimidate Pierce into cooperating with him and his unspeakable agenda. Having viewed a creature straight out of Revelation, though, Hawkeye just didn't scare that easy.

Potter just pointed his head down.

"Go with God, Tackey. Maybe the man upstairs can use a planner."

Charity aside, Potter could not bring himself to say, 'a good planner'.

Their sleep in the uncomfortable barracks was fitful, at best. Nightmares were not uncommon. The city of Tokyo faced one that was very real, in the form of Godzilla. In the late morning, the medics would face an awesome decision.

**Chapter 4 - First, Do No Harm**

December 29, 1954, about 5:35 AM

At the bottom of the bay that was its most primeval ancestral spawning site, the creature slept. Sleeping, it dreamed.

It saw nature's joy, when it, amphibian and omnivore, emerged. Perfect in all ways, survival and balance combined, it roamed the narrow Earth of old. Stronger than the tyrants. More flexible than the brachs. Smarter than the jumpers, who hunted in packs. Better armored by far than the spike-backs or ridge-backs. There were fewer of his kind, because fewer were needed.

In their case, simple birth meant survival over and against all comers. It settled in to be an herbivore, but nature had made it capable of eating anything. It loved its new child, and so told it to hide, deep, deep within her folds. The devil-star came, then, and wiped away nature's lesser children. The only other survivors were the bird-eggs, nestled within a series of volcanoes. There were stories, of course of turtles, hydras, and bugs, but who believes such fantastic nonsense?

When it awoke, its parent had her attention on the new child, fragile and quite bratty. That new child caused the creature terrible pain. Now, one of that child's own children talked to its many-times great uncle. It had no use for the little one's words, but at least it was polite.

"Now, look! I don't know how I got here, but here I am. Godzilla, you gotta go away. This place isn't yours anymore. Please! I can only talk to ta you like I talk to my animals, but I know ya understand."

Radar O'Reilly had no idea how to consciously do what he was doing. Some might call it astral projection; others might say that an Immortal can do amazing things with the Quickening stored within them. Walter would simply say that he needed to try and talk to Godzilla. In another life, the creature might respond to the fervent pleas of young people ; but this was not that life.

Within O'Reilly's mind, a voice boomed :

"Little one; Will you be there for me, when I die?"

Without hesitation, and waking up as he did, Radar said, "I promise."

It was only 6AM. No revelry, in these barracks. They were just another in a series of mistakes by the late General Tacken. No one had held a gun to their heads, and made them attend this reunion in doomed Tokyo. But, it could be honestly argued, that no one had expected any of this.

They hadn't expected first-class hotels. They hadn't expected 100$-a plate dinners. They hadn't expected use of the Tokyo Hilton. It was good that they hadn't expected this, because they got none of it. The General decided on 'nostalgia', which meant that they were staying there under conditions that roughly resembled those of the 4077th. Radar, who awoke to an empty barracks, suddenly found the mess food was not as tasty as he remembered. He joined his friends in the hall which did not look like his home of 2 years in Korea.

"Pierce? Hey, Pierce!"

Hawkeye never thought he'd be glad to see Colonel Victor Bloodworth. But their differences were in the past.

Bloodworth had transferred out of casualty rate prediction, and he and Pierce even wrote each other on occasion. Hawkeye knew he was serving in Tokyo, but had absently hoped the man had been evacuated-for his sake.

"Heyy, Vic. Colonel Potter, you remember Vic Bloodworth?"

"Indeed I do. Colonel Bloodworth, I hope you don't want a rematch, with Pierce, here. Right now, we got bigger sea serpents to fry."

"Hawkeye, didn't you tell your friends why I came? Colonel, he asked me here."

Potter looked strangely at Pierce.

"Now, son. We're trying to get people OUT of Tokyo. We can't go, cause of the roads, and the air-sea route has a nasty troll waiting! But Colonel Bloodworth doesn't have to be here."

"Colonel, gather the other Doctors, plus Margaret, Kellye, Able, Baker, and Gwen. We'll need all the vets for this choice."

Potter seemed to know what was coming, and so acquiesced. Gathered in a small anteroom, Pierce spoke to his friends.

"We can't get out. The shelters are overstuffed. If that thing comes out of the water, all we can do is vaguely hope it heads in the other direction. I'm not for that, myself. I say we make our stand."

Winchester did not understand.

"Besides stating the obvious, Pierce, I do not see what we would be making a stand against. Godzilla? Perhaps Zale and Rizzo can piece something together. We'll call it ...oh, I dunno, the SUPER X-JEEP? Or perhaps we'll just throw ping-pong balls at the Leviathan. That'll learn im! Stand, indeed."

BJ did understand. Trapper took a moment, but the concept sank in rapidly.

"I'm with you, Hawk. God knows why, since I'd like to see my family again, but it beats standing around by a mile."

"I'm in, too. But you'll have to tell my wife Louise that I failed to show up for our counseling session because I got underfoot."

The next answer was a complete surprise.

"I say we stay and help these people! Besides, as long as everyone has the good sense God gave them and stays clear of the beast, how many wounded could there be?"

"Thanks, Frank, but we'll get to that. Father Mulcahy, I'm only going to ask you as a formality-how about it?"

"Thank You, Hawkeye, but it is an unnecessary formality. I'm afraid Tokyo is going to need a lot of prayer, and lose a lot of souls."

"Now, before we continue, let me just apologize to the world's best nursing staff for never giving them enough credit. That's my ham-handed way of asking you if you will stay and help us in this very VERY dangerous place and time."

The veteran nursing staff turned and looked at one another, and then Kellye spoke.

"Since that beats MOST of your pickup lines, Doctor Pierce, we're staying. Besides, there are going to be patients here-many of them badly wounded. What the hell is being a healer about, if not that?"

"The Committee having voted yes, we now go to the floor. Colonel, it's all yours."

Hawkeye hadn't asked Potter or Margaret; they would have socked him one for the insult.

Back in the main hall, Colonel Sherman T. Potter addressed a group of people who respected him, but who, for the most part, were under no obligation to obey his orders.

"So that's it, people. We can make a run for the hills, and maybe make it, or do what we do best-help sick people get better. There's no shame in wanting to leave, and I'll pulverize anyone who says otherwise. As the saying goes, we didn't sign on for this."

A murmur rushed through the hall. It lasted a full 3 minutes. Max Klinger ended up saying what they all felt.

"Begging the Colonel's pardon, Sir-but last I checked, this is the 4077th. And the 4077th does not run. We do, on occasion, bug out, but not this time."

As Klinger's words met with resounding acclimation, Major Houlihan started directing the sterilizing of the hall.

"All right, people! TWO mops in each hand, and don't spare the bleach! This place has got to be as close to germ-free as it gets! Surgeons! Join in, but wear three pairs of gloves, and NO heavy lifting!"

Potter, Pierce, and Bloodworth went back to the anteroom amid the bustle. Although under the worst possible conditions, the reunion was finally becoming memorable in a good way.

"What do you have, Vic?"

"Well, Pierce, I cobbled some old notes together and came up with this: Remember?"

Potter had been wondering why Pierce called Bloodworth; He now realized that, though a grim task, Bloodworth knew how to predict casualties. They would need such information, here.

"Hawkeye, while you and Vic confab, I gotta roust this base's medical supplies. If it were a full base, steada just an auxiliary, that wouldn't even be a problem."

As Potter left, Hawkeye spoke again to Colonel Bloodworth.

"Vic, are you sure?"

"I may not be able to do that job anymore, Doctor, but I was damned good at it when I did! I hope to God I'm wrong, Hawkeye, but...I think this is it."

"What was this scenario based on?"

"A next-to-worst-case scenario, just short of nuclear war. Our lines would break, Russia would be in chaos, and the Chinese would use both bacteriological and chemical weapons on a large scale. The result would be so many injured and dying that all medical facilities would be completely overwhelmed, within hours. The wounded would almost literally never stop coming. We even cobbed a name for it, God help us."

"Colonel Bloodworth, I'm not trying to start in, here. But, I have to ask one more time, are you certain?"

"It's all for real, Doctor. If Godzilla emerges from Tokyo Bay, we are looking straight down the barrel of The Endless O.R.!"

Armed with these grim facts, the 4077th made ready for something there was no preparing for.

That night, unable to sleep, Hawkeye and Margaret engaged in their favorite activity-that could be done in public, that is. Then, a sound of thunder.

"MMmh. Margaret, did the Earth move for you, too?"

"You're in rare form, tonight, Doctor. I really felt that one."

Then, their eyes opened, and they looked towards Tokyo Bay, through the hall's front windows. The worst had occurred.

"Steady, people! This is what we've been waiting for. Though this son of Missoura could have honestly done quite nicely with a mite more waiting."

"Yea, though I walk through...Yea, though I walk...Oh, my. Oh, I can't remember the words. This is terrible!"

"Please, go back! This ain't none of it necessary!"

"My Dad was in New York, back in 33'. Saw...Kong. But the ape wasn't that big. How can anything be?"

"Beautiful Boston was in my thoughts at the 4077th; It's sweet image will see me through this, that I swear."

"Tell Erin I loved her, Peg. She's gotta know that."

"Mommy!"

All had comments; All had questions. Soon, all had their hands full. The creature's rampage, as it left the water, lasted only 15 minutes. But that was time enough for Godzilla to shrug off all weaponry, take out 5 buildings, and 1 very crowded suspension bridge.

The initial toll : 100,000 persons dead or missing, perhaps 3 times that many wounded, many of them severely.

For 12 hours, the hospitals in and around Tokyo were flooded. The 4077th was not. It was used to such nightmarish scenarios, and its staff knew how to process patients. But the 12 hours was solid, with no stops.

They had operated for longer, but never on so many. Fractures, amputations, lacerations, all came and went in a blur.

Only Pierce and Houlihan seemed unfatigued. This was something the others would have reason to question-later. For now, though, they waded through the river of human bodies that was the first legacy of Godzilla. The Endless O.R. had begun.

**Chapter 5 - After Me, The Apocalypse**

December 30, 1954

Sherman T. Potter had told his people that they were setting up shop during the disaster in Tokyo, 'to help sick people get better.' They and he knew full well that this was a euphemism at best, a comforting lie at worst. Except for the victims of radiation poisoning, who were beyond their help, no one was *sick*. But they all also knew that, if they abandoned the people of Japan, here and now, they would face many sleepless nights for the rest of their lives.

They were by the bay, in the hall that had served for their miserable reunion. This spared them the fires gutting much of town, but meant that, if Godzilla should emerge near them, a swipe of its tail would reunite them all in a better place. The tension was telling, those first 12 hours. Some, it nearly broke.

If Hawkeye Pierce wasn't feeling the fatigue, then Charles Winchester was feeling it for both of them. It wouldn't take much to unravel the last threads of his self-control. Standing in front of him was the selfsame not much, in the form of a little girl.

With sad eyes, she pointed with her left hand to the stump that was her right. As a punishment for making noise, her right hand had been held under cold, running water. But radiation from the creature had infested many aquifers. The water was poisoned. Charles almost didn't recall saving her life the only way he knew how.

The child then asked him a question. In nearly flawless Japanese, Winchester responded. The girl grew tearful, then left. Though he still had patients, Charles rushed outside to be sick. He had to tell her the truth.

"I am sorry, little one, but I don't know where your hand is."

It was a lie, but there was no sense sending the precious poppet to look through the rapidly growing charnel - pile. After all, her parents had been drinking from the infected water. In an especially sickening twist, those fresh-water sources not befouled by Godzilla were in danger of holding cholera, because of their being overloaded and backed up.

At the thought of all this, Doctor Winchester began to hyperventilate. This was noticed by a passing Frank Burns. Fair surgeon or foul, Frank knew he had to get Charles' breathing back to normal-fast. Thinking especially quickly, a man who had a great deal of experience with his own hyperventilation said exactly seven words to his replacement.

"I'm a better surgeon than you, Winchester!"

Upon hearing this outrageous statement, Charles began to breathe normally. Catching his breath, he began to speak as soon as he could, then realized the favor he had been done.

"HOW D-HARE YOU EVEN INTIMATE SUCH AN OUTLANDISH CLAIM, YOU QUACK! WHY, I...I...I do believe I owe you quite a bit of thanks...Frank."

"Oh, don't mention it...Charles. I've always found that getting people angry with me helps them to relax."

As Burns walked off, Winchester shook his head. He was grateful, to be certain, but still got the oddest feeling about the very odd man who was his predecessor at the 4077th. For most people, catching a glimpse of the elusive human Frank Burns always made the difficult being he usually was stand out even more.

Godzilla was capable of many amazing feats. Perhaps none was more amazing than the forging of the common bond that now existed between Trapper John McIntyre and BJ Hunnicutt. It is worth noting, however, that they got along only because they were now angry with someone else-that someone being their one and only mutual friend.

"You know, Hunnicutt?"

"No, what, McIntyre?"

"There is only one thing bigger than Godzilla."

"If you're talking about Hawkeye Pierce's ego, then I couldn't agree more!"

"I mean, bad enough he always has to get the last word!"

"You mean to say, he did that to you, too? I thought he started that when I arrived."

"And I was hopin' he'da stopped after I left. Besides that, he has to outclass us, even here, when there are more lives at stake than ever."

"Heh. Tell me about it. Dammit, 5000 patients pass through here during that little slice of Dante's Inferno, and he and Margaret are suddenly jet-propelled, handling better than 2/3 personally! Did you see how they were moving?"

"They were...awesome. They..helped a lot of people. We all did. You know, BJ?"

"No, what, Trapper?"

"Are we as petty and snide as we sound?" "Pettier. I still don't feel bad about what I just said. But what was up with them? I hope to God they weren't using...help."

"I heard tell that your blueblood pal, Winchester, once had some 'help'. But Hawkeye and Hot Lips are too smart for that, aren't they?"

"So was Charles. Do you wanna say it?"

"May as well. Let's talk to Potter. If they are hooked on something, we gotta right to know, and we got a responsibility to help them, right?"

"Of course we do. They'll probably thank us for our concern, that's all."

In the meantime, a Max Klinger who was increasingly convinced he would never see his wife and kids again walked up to Sherman Potter, who was surveying some rather grim documents that had been hand-delivered from one of Tokyo's hospitals, now a charred ruin from fires that were burning in Godzilla's wake. To say the older man was in no mood was something of an understatement.

"Colonel, I need to talk to you, sir. I-I want out! I want to hop one of the freighters headed for Formosa. I can't be here, sir. I'm sorry."

Without even looking up from his document pile, Potter shot off a response.

"So Max Klinger wants out. Heh. What the hell else is new? Permission denied, soldier. We've got a ton of work to do. Back to it."

"With all respect, sir, if I stay here, I might get killed by Godzilla. What are Soon-Lee and our kids gonna do then? This isn't another dodge, Colonel."

"That's a complaint a number of families are gonna face, Klinger, including my own. Now I am issuing you a direct order to drop your goldbrick and get back to it."

Max Klinger would wonder, for a moment, who spoke so rudely to the Colonel at that moment. He would then realize it was him.

"You take your orders, and you go to hell, you old hypocrite. I'm not army anymore, and I don't need a Section 8, and guess what, I DON'T NEED YOU!"

Potter felt a dark anger that would have frightened even Lucien Lacroix.

"The hell, you don't! You'd be rotting in a jail cell, if it wasn't for me. As for orders, you're the one who said the 4077th doesn't run. Or does that not count for big red birds with fuzzy pink feet, with half of the family dying, the other half pregnant? You can find yourself a new job, stateside. I'll abide your whining, but I will not abide a stinking COWARD who ducks out on his friends when things get rough. Do you know what I'm doing? HUH? I'm trying to figure out how 20,000 men, women, and children that used to be alive can be disposed of before they start carrying disease. Did you know that one-fifth of the dead were not anywhere near the Bay when Godzilla attacked? They were trampled to death by other people, more than 5 miles away from any danger. I got people actin' like damned cattle, and a snot-nosed ungrateful punk who wants some attention from his little wifey. That, MAX is all I'm dealin' with!"

"All right, SHERM, I'll go you one better. My kids are half-Korean! How would you like to see all those dead kids, with faces so close to your own, you have to work at it not to scream, KINDA LIKE I'M DOIN' RIGHT NOW!"

Klinger's eyes began to tear up.

"Oh, god. Colonel, I'm sorry! I don't hate you. And I wouldn't back out on you, for the world. I'm a chump, for yellin' at you like that."

Potter felt two inches tall. He had allowed his unspeakable burden to strike out at a man he regarded as real family.

"There are chumps galore, tonight, Max. As for the kids, Pierce had a little nightmare he told me about. He walked in to the waiting area, and there was Godzilla, munching down live chickens. I think you know what that means for him. I had to talk him down, same as you just talked me. But Max, because of our choice, there are at least five-thousand people alive right now who probably would have left us. Because we let up the pressure on the local hospitals, they were able to help even more people. We should be proud, not sniping at each other."

Max nodded. But he wasn't convinced.

"Colonel, there's exactly one area hospital left from that monster's attack. If-WHEN-it returns, what will the next wave be like?"

Sherman Potter liked and respected Max Klinger too much to sugar-coat the situation, so he summed it up as best he knew how, in two words.

"Pure Hell".

Across the still-crowded hall, Hawkeye and Margaret listened intently to what their dear friends had to say, on the subject of their considerable prowess during the incredible 12-hour session. Having listened, they digested the words and their meaning, and offered forward a considered opinion of their own.

"Are you guys out of your minds? Margaret and I have barely been able to take in each other for the last 24 hours, let alone amphetamines, or what have you. Look, I've just been in good form. That's it. End of story."

Margaret Houlihan's opinion of their friends' opinion was, as they say, somewhat lower.

"If the two of you will recall, Doctor Pierce and myself are just about the only staff members to serve almost the entire three years in Korea. We know each other's rhythm, that's all. I hope your concern is genuine, because I have to wonder if you aren't just choking on our dust! It seems to me that Godzilla isn't the only green-eyed monster around here."

There were words that would have diffused Trapper and BJ's suspicions. Tellingly, Hawkeye and Margaret chose not to use those words. BJ was fuming at their arrogance, but Trapper thought back, while Hunnicutt ranted.

"YOUR DUST? Y'know, two former boozehounds like yourselves have one hell of a nerve lecturing anybody! We, stupid morons that we are, were concerned that two people we care about were putting junk into their systems, trying to keep up with this little monster MASH. We're sorry! Congratulations, Hawk. Trapper and I finally agree on something. You're both hiding something, and you're both *nuts*. Now, the two of you are going in for blood tests. You say you're not taking anything. Well, I want proof."

Suddenly, BJ and Trapper each grabbed one of Hawkeye's arms. The look on his face was not a friendly one.

"Uhh, you fellas seem to have mistaken me for a drumstick. Now, let me go, or I'll suddenly remember that you both found time to deck me back in the Swamp, at your respective ring-times."

"Hawk, listen to yourself. Just let us find out what has you so hopped up. C'mon, pal. I don't like this, but it's for your own good. Now, we are not letting you go, till you agree to the test."

"Listen to him, Hawkeye. You two couldn't see the way you were moving, back in the OR. I think it might be that garbage, finally kicking in."

BJ looked quizzical, so Trapper told him of some biological warfare agents that Hawkeye and Margaret had been exposed to, by the very same forces that were behind Henry Blake's death. Someday, in the company of two young FBI agents, Hawkeye Pierce would find the truth. For now, though, he just wanted to be let go.

"Okay, guys. Yes, Trapper, that bio-trash has kicked in, and, yes, BJ, you are letting me go."

Before either Hunnicutt or McIntyre could react, Pierce threw them both forward with incredible force. Margaret, reacting at equally stunning speed, caught them.

"HAWKEYE? Have you lost your senses? You could have killed them! And you two, grabbing him like that. Are we all losing it? I mean, I'm sorry I said things like *eat our dust*, but we can't have blood tests that might tell those people what they did to us. Now, I think a round of apologies is in order, and you can consider that an order-sort of."

"Guys-I-I tossed my two best friends around like laundry. But Margaret and I didn't ask for this-any of it. It frightens the hell out of us, maybe even more than Godzilla does. But we should have trusted you, told you. Forgive and forget?"

"Laundry? Hawk, I'll go you one better. Trapper and I wanted to force our best friend, who saved both our careers last year, to roll up his sleeve and prove he and his lady, also our friend, weren't junkies. A common enough request, if you don't happen to want to be friends anymore. What a dope I am. I see all those kids, snuffed out with no warning, but instead of pulling out a picture of Erin, I pull out my search warrant."

"Don't sweat it, Hunnicutt. I heard Potter and Klinger going at it, and Father Mulcahy praying for faith to see him through. Him! The holiest guy I'll ever know. Plus, Frank and Winchester are buddy-buddy now. Add a nearly 200-foot dragon to the mix, and suddenly the whole world seems on edge. I mean, why does a guy named *Trapper* feel so damned trapped?"

Hawkeye looked around, trying to find something to say. He couldn't offer much.

"If we're like this now, then what happens when Godzilla comes out for real? If what Radar says is true, then that little electric fence they're putting up won't mean very much. We can't stay. Supplies are tight enough now."

Margaret re-focused them, and they would need that focus.

"We get through till we can't. Then we leave. But as long as were not at each others' throats, we'll be fine, even if Tokyo is lost. We're here to help save the city we used to run away to. Well, now the war is here, and this pearl of the Orient needs us, even if only to bear witness to its death. We all owe this city, and we owe these people. What I did to hurt Frank, or any of you did to each other, all of it is now meaningless. We are all healers. Let's act like it, maybe for the first time ever. No militarism, no showers, no pranks, and we check our egos at the door. Any takers?"

Hawkeye raised his hand.

"Margaret, can I marry you?"

Stunned, Margaret merely said, "We'll talk about it."

Hawkeye felt she could have been slightly more enthusiastic, while Margaret felt like his proposal was more of a fishing expedition. She would wait for a real proposal, and he for a real answer. The dance between them would continue.

For now, though, the 4077th was renewed. Shortly before nightfall, Reporter Stephen Martin visited the makeshift site. In his company, surveying the damage, were Doctors Yamane and Serizawa.

"Are you this unit's Chief Surgeon?"

"Yeah, I'm Benjamin Franklin Pierce, also known as Hawkeye. Welcome to hell, Mr. Martin. We're all doing what we can, but as you can see, until they find a way to kill Godzilla, it's all upstream...do I know you? Personally, I mean?"

Stephen Martin's eyes shifted nervously.

"I..don't believe so, Hawkeye. So, you believe that, until Godzilla is destroyed, hospitals like this face still worse casualties?"

"Well, calling this a hospital is bit like calling a slum the Taj Mahal. You see...I do know you. But your name isn't Steve...it's Sam? It's me, Hawkeye! How's your invisible pal with the libido? Al, was it? Geez, it's good to...What the hell am I talking about?"

Hawkeye cleared his thoughts.

"Well, anyway, they have to kill that thing, bottom line."

Stephen Martin turned white as a sheet, and did appear to be talking to an invisible friend. Before any further talk of 'Sam' could emerge, though, Doctor Yamane interrupted, loudly.

"You are a disgrace to your Hippocratic Oath, Doctor Pierce! Godzilla should be captured, and studied, for the betterment of all. Or are you Americans so very fond of bombs, like that which created Godzilla?"

Doctor Yamane's opinion was simultaneously enlightened and ignorant. Hawkeye thought out a measured response, because he had harbored many of those same thoughts.

Doctor Serizawa took note of Father Francis Mulcahy, and approached him.

"Father, may we speak?"

"Of course, my son. Is this is a confession you wish to give? I don't really have a confessional, here."

"Any private area will do, Father."

Besides his scarring and eye patch, Mulcahy couldn't help but note the burden this man seemed to carry, the haunted tone of his voice. The priest hoped that he could help Serizawa.

"Father, I am not Catholic. But my sin is great, and you are bound not to tell my dread secret, when we speak like this."

"The sanctity of the Confessional will be a Church Law when people are eating hamburgers on Friday...that's a little joke. What troubles you, Doctor?"

"Father, forgive me, for I have betrayed my country. I alone posses the means to destroy Godzilla. But I dare not allow it to be used. It is a device that renders sea-water oxygen-free. All life dissolves in its grasp, even life as potent as the monster's. But in the hands of evil men, it could destroy the world. Oceans, seas, and lakes stripped clean. The breaking of the Great Food Chain! If I do nothing, all Japan may fall before Godzilla. If I act, billions may suffer. In what way should I err, Father? For I do not care for either path."

The Padre felt roughly as though King Arthur had risen and confessed Excalibur's whereabouts. If Serizawa spoke truly...it still didn't matter. His oath was his oath, never to be taken lightly. He also knew that Serizawa's Oxygen Destroyer would be used as a weapon, and a horrible one at that. He had seen the use men put limited weapons to. He knew what to tell his charge.

"No greater love hath any man, but that he lay his life down and give it up to save the life of another. Keep your weapon secret, Doctor. No matter what the cost."

A great calm descended over Serizawa, at Mulcahy's words. He still had things to think about. But the Padre's words to him would, in their own way, change the course of human history. Still, the Doctor's final decision lay yet ahead. Francis Mulcahy would remember this conversation, later, and then for the rest of his life.

"Thank You, Father."

"Go with God, Doctor."

While they spoke, Yamane huffily awaited Pierce's response. Stephen Martin now stuck to the background, out of sight.

"Well, Doctor? Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"Nope. No, Doctor Yamane, I don't have a damned thing to say. These people, the living and the dead, the wounded and the maimed? They say something, though. They tell people like you and me that, whatever we can find out from Godzilla comes with way too hefty a price tag. I'd love a *G-Cell* under my med-school microscope. But these people are real, and their wounds, burns, and pain are even realer. At risk of my scientific curiosity, I'll choose them. No offense, but also no contest. I choose them over Godzilla."

Yamane tried to recover, but his resolve was sorely tested.

"I will concede, Doctor Pierce, that the sight of your makeshift hospital is a sobering one, but..."

"Never mind the buts, Doctor. As to sobering, this place could have W.C. Fields on Spring Water!"

As angry with himself as with Pierce, Yamane left. Pierce and Emiko Yamane each apologized, and then the delegation was gone. Nightfall came soon after.

With electricity out, a large spotlight fixed atop a jeep was set up, to illuminate the stopgap OR, should it become necessary. It did.

This time, the creature was out and about for 4 full hours. Skyscrapers were like water, for the way Godzilla waded through them. Its breath of atomic fire burned whatever it did not crush. Panic took many; disease many more. 47 emergency shelters fell, despite best precautions. Weapons' fire, useless against Godzilla, contributed to the burning of Tokyo, as spent shells dumped their powder.

At the place that called itself the 4077th-A-for Auxiliary, Colonel Bloodworth's prediction of the Endless O.R. was in full swing. This time, no counts were kept. This time, the blinding speed and strength of its Chief Surgeon and Head Nurse were only a pebble on the beach.

Many were lost to horrible injury; Many more survived, because these men and women had long ago placed steel in their spines. Still, the wounded kept coming. For 18 hours, without let, stopping only when the roads were no longer passable.

Several times, the spotlight had to be turned off, for fear of attracting Godzilla. Klinger gave a yell.

"Turn off the spotlight! It's coming this way!"

Sherman T. Potter hated using the huge spotlight to illuminate his O.R., but he had no choice. Electricity was a thing of the past, thanks to the thing from the past. Bright lights called it over, though, like a seagull to a lighthouse. So the only source of light had to be occasionally shut off, for fear of attracting Godzilla.

Only one problem this time. Godzilla was still coming. Medics and wounded alike would be killed, almost instantly.

"It's the heat! He still kinda sees the heat from the lamp, even though we got it off, now!"

The panic in Radar O'Reilly's voice caused something to snap within Colonel Potter. He ran inside, and came out with a mop handle. He then flicked the spotlight back on.

Trapper voiced the opinion of all.

"Colonel, are you crazy? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Potter's response, as he turned the jeep around, and began to drive off, was terse and typical of him.

"My sworn duty, McIntyre. If this don't work, it was a pleasure meeting you, son."

"Hey, come back! Have more pleasure meeting me. You jerk! It won't look good on my resume' if 2 CO's buy the farm when I'm around!"

Ignoring Trapper's words, Colonel Potter drove the jeep, its spotlight blaring, directly towards Godzilla. It drew the beast's attention. Placing the mop handle on the accelerator so as to keep the jeep going, Potter prepared to jump out.

"Henry, here's hopin' that I am NOT swapping Hawkeye stories with you, anytime soon. Although, I'm sure you have some good ones."

In the distance, all anyone saw was Godzilla's fire breath utterly destroy the jeep, and then turn away, the distraction having worked. Their hearts sank until, 5 minutes later, Potter stumbled back to the site. There was a resounding cheer, the first in a good long while. Potter was not impressed with his own heroism.

"I'm getting too old for this crap!"

Trapper shot back.

"Thanks to you, pal, we all got a little older, just now. May we continue to do so, for the forseeable future."

A delighted Father Mulcahy completed the thought.

"Amen to that, Trapper!"

The night's only other miracle came when the 4077th-A and Tokyo's one remaining hospital were spared any further visits. Very little else was. The final toll, both direct and collateral, was 2 million dead, 1 million injured, and 3 million homeless, in a city of 8 million people.

To all concerned, it was beyond belief.

Reports emerged of a new secret super-weapon, a last ditch effort to kill Godzilla. To Radar O'Reilly, staring out at Tokyo Bay the next evening, the only thing that mattered were his words, spoken while everyone else lay asleep, from complete exhaustion. Corpsmen, Nurses, and Doctors had given their all. Nervous hands twitched in their sleep while Radar spoke.

"No one can help you now, pal. But I'm a man of my word. I'll keep my promise, or maybe you'll keep yours. Either way, it's gotta be over, tomorrow."

At midnight, Radar was probably the only person to note 1954 turning into 1955.

This day, it would be over.

**Chapter 6 - Abyssinia, Gojira!**

Dear Dad:

This is going to have to be brief. These letters are going on a junk to Taiwan. If I don't see you again, let me say it outright-I love you, Dad. Here's hoping I come back so you can bawl me out for getting all mushy. But if this 'Oxygen Destroyer' fails to kill Godzilla, then he'll come back-to finish the job. I have a story to tell you about Frank and Charles you will not believe, if we make it.

Really Hoping I See You Soon,

Ben Pierce.

January 1, 1955, 11:24 AM

There were many such letters going out, to husbands, wives, parents, children, or anyone at all. The Endless O.R. was over, because it had to be. Even Hawkeye and Margaret, recipients of an unwanted gift of metabolic enhancement, were exhausted. Their supplies were gone.

People all over the city were freezing, starving, or dying, because relief workers would not be sent until final word was received on Godzilla. The weapon had to work, for there was simply no other way for the city to survive and rebuild. As it stood now, that rebuilding would occur minus two to three million people, victims of either Godzilla or the state of chaos he unwittingly brought about.

If they survived, the beleaguered crew of the 4077th-A would have many stories to tell. In desperation, former corpsmen had performed tracheotomies, and learned to do them quite well, along with other minor surgery. Several former nurses were now in medical school, and attained experience that no post-grad residency could hope to offer.

Those who could do nothing were given the grim job of clean-up; Igor and their one-time chef, both blessed with strong stomachs, showed their true strength by volunteering for the darkest duty of all: disposing of lost body parts. As anesthesia ran low, the screaming escalated; patients were being knocked out by blows to the head, in some cases.

But now Godzilla's second assault was over. It had returned to the water. Tokyo could not survive a third assault. So it was that Doctor Serizawa was convinced to use his Oxygen Destroyer. He also made another choice.

January 1 - 2:37 PM

In gratitude for the help the 4077th provided, the Mayor asked Colonel Potter if he would like to be on the boat from which the Oxygen Destroyer would be deployed. Potter said no, but asked if one of his people could go. That person was Radar O'Reilly.

"I kinda sorta gotta keep a promise I made to somebody about being there when Godzilla got killed."

He told no one he had made that promise to Godzilla.

As his friends finally rested, Radar was on the boat, waiting for Doctor Serizawa and the other man to come back. The other man, apparently Emiko Yamane's fiancée, returned. Serizawa did not, having chosen to die beneath the waters rather than let anyone abuse his horrible invention. When Father Mulcahy learned of this, he remembered Serizawa's confession and wondered whether his death was suicide or heroism, to protect the world. Worse, the pious man would always wonder something.

"Oh, Lord. Did I tell that man to end his life? Did he take my words, to protect the secret of his invention at any cost, in a way I did not mean? Did I, unthinkingly, cost the world a great man?"

Before this, though, the sleeping 4077th was awakened by a cry of primordial pain, both human and otherwordly. It was the most frightening sound that they would ever hear. It was the sound of Godzilla's death-cry. As the creature rose one last time from the depths, its flesh and bone were once again being destroyed. It turned, and caught Radar's eye as it sank.

"You came, little one! Thank You. I do not wish to die alone. That you kept your promise means that your kind has hope. Will you do the same for my children as you do for me, now?"

Radar was not sure if he was really hearing Godzilla inside his head. But, just to be sure, he said, unspoken: "Children?"

The creature's voice spoke again : "You did not think I was the only one? There will be others. Will you be there, for them?"

In his mind, Radar saw flesh turn to bone, and bone to nothing. Godzilla was destroyed, but Radar nevertheless spoke, out loud this time.

"I Promise."

With the crisis over, medical facilities on U.S. bases were permitted to fully intervene on behalf of Tokyo's many injured. The Army Corps of Engineers started to shore up structures that could be shored up, and tore down those that were beyond repair.

Quietly, the U.S. government told the government of its ally, South Korea, that any future attempt to tie the United States' hands in such a crisis would result in unspecified consequences. The enemies of the US were told, very simply, that it would bring about the Third World War. As pictures of shattered Tokyo flooded all parts of Asia, many felt that wartime Japan had finally paid for its crimes, and so those places sent massive humanitarian aid.

For all that, the city would be a decade in rebuilding. When that time was done, the rebuilt Tokyo would help lead Japan to economic stardom-until 1984, that is, when people were lead to wonder how well the Oxygen Destroyer had really worked.

On New Year's Day, 1955, the men and women of the MASH 4077th received wonderful news. They were going home - and more. Potter read the telegram, directly from the President Of The United States.

"Further, let it be said that the 4077th MASH is what America is all about- Imperfect souls, doing their very best in the midst of the very worst. You are all to be commended. That you did this when any number of other, more selfish options were open to you only raises you up higher, in the eyes of your countrymen. You may place yourselves very near to those first young men on Omaha Beach, whose deaths saved the world from evil. I do not feel that I diminish them in saying this, for you have carried on their courage in the face of the unspeakable. I have received a request, to fly you all stateside, to Los Angeles. There, you and your loved ones will stay, at government expense, at a fine hotel, for a 3-day reunion. The cuisine will be a better grade than you have received. I am product of the US Army, but know full well our deadliest weapon is our chefs."

"Folks, we're all gonna get a copy of this. It's signed, Dwight David Eisenhower, and it's genuine. One teensy thing, though. Who made that request?"

**Washington, DC, eight hours prior **

"Yes, I'm fine. How's Mamie? Very good, Mr. President. You did? Thanks, Ike. I always said you were the best assistant I ever had, and I meant it. The 4077th? Well, that's a story. I had gotten jaded. I was touring as many units as I could, attempting to boost morale. But it was always the same sycophantic fawning. Heh. George would've knocked them silly. Even Truman didn't put up with such nonsense. It got so, I was just passing through units, not even stopping. Then came the 4077th. As I left it, I saw something remarkable. One soldier so loved his country, he dressed up as Lady Liberty, sparklers and all! A crude image, but a wake-up call to a man like me, who had forgotten what it's all about. This man humiliated himself, to show me the way. That kind of dedication got me through the rough times, Ike. If I ever meet this Max Klinger, I'm going to tell him just that. With heart like that, that overstuffed lizard didn't stand a chance. Well, it was good talking to you, Mr. President. Is that so? Well, if they've released Bart Steele from the Sanitarium, I'd love to have him over. To you too, sir."

With that, Former General Douglas MacArthur hung up and went to tell his wife that *Crazy Bart* was coming to dinner.

**The Los Angeles Continental Hotel - January 7th **

It was now Radar's turn to offer up a toast. The reunion was finally going right. They were home, and they were with their families. In Los Angeles, people were already discussing a film version of the events in doomed Tokyo, possibly starring Ronald Reagan or Clark Gable as Stephen Martin.

Hawkeye and Margaret talked as though they were engaged, but everyone had their doubts. Frank, sadly, had decided not to join them. There would be future reunions - all planned in secret - but the man who had proven he could be human stayed safe in his shell and attended virtually none of them.

Colonel Potter's heroism was the talk of the gathering. It had been hell, in Tokyo, but they had saved quite a few people from the flames. Happily, the truce between Trapper and BJ held.

Charles used his contacts to try and expedite the adoption of *Godzilla's orphans* as the children were called, in the press. Sadly, he learned one child would not be helped. The young girl whose hand he was forced to take had nevertheless succumbed to radiation poisoning.

Not a few people came to the conclusion that Godzilla had been like the whole Korean war on two legs. No one from the 4077th had been lost, but they did not emerge unscathed. Having viewed the modern dragon, the world, for them, would never make the same amount of sense, ever again. Finally, Radar spoke.

"I would like to propose a toast, to everybody who finds themselves somewhere where they don't understand. Sometimes, you wake up and the world's gone screwy. You try to figure it out, but it still don't make no sense, and everybody's shoutin' at ya. Ya feel out of place, and ya go home, and things still aren't right. Sometimes.. they never get right. So here's to everybody who finds themselves somewhere, where they don't belong. May they find that place where they do, and find peace, when they do, also."

"Here, here, Radar! Though you mangled the King's English, you certainly told how I felt in Tokyo."

Murmurs in the room seconded Hawkeye Pierce's sentiment. Walter O'Reilly received many compliments for his insightful words. He wondered how people would feel, if they knew he was not talking so much about them, as about Godzilla. Wisely, he never tried to find out.

**December 24, 1995 **

The creature was being consumed from within, destroyed by its own nuclear energy. It had defeated the menace known as Destroyer, a mutation caused by the Oxygen Destroyer of forty years prior. Finally, it died, passing its power to its offspring. Tokyo was spared the massive radiation surge. The Godzilla who had first appeared in 1984 was now joined with the original creature, from 1954. A new creature emerged from the shadows, the now-fully mature *Junior*. Godzilla was dead. Long live Godzilla.

As the thing ambled off, G-Force, the UN's Anti-Godzilla force, scanned the area, the scene of the final battle. Miki Saegusa, G-Force's beautiful and powerful psychic, felt another powerful presence, this despite the fading of her abilities.

She sought to investigate. She saw a young man, staring at the departing creature, and waving. He had remained a young man since becoming Immortal in 1952.

"Sir? Why are you here? This area is dangerous."

With a psychic pull so deep it startled even her, Miki felt herself being regarded by the man.

"Wow, you're really pretty."

Miki had once held Godzilla itself at bay for 30 seconds with her abilities, but this man held still greater power, untapped. Despite his seeming youth and farm boy looks, she didn't mind the compliment from him one bit.

"Thank you, sir. But, my face and form are not important, now. Why are you here?"

He would remain in Tokyo, for a time, and teach Miki Saegusa about the real limits of her abilities. They would also have a brief but memorable romance, before he left to seek more sword-training, at the feet of two Highlanders and The Oldest.

That all lay in the near future. For now, Walter O'Reilly just answered her question.

"Plain and simple. I made a promise to Godzilla. And A Promise Is A Promise! Hey-is there anyone else like him?"

Just then, a gigantic moth and a giant turtle with flaming feet flew over, chasing hundreds of pterodactyl-like birds with pointed heads. Miki shrugged.

"There is nothing like Godzilla."

**The End **

_Writer's note : In the end, there was no need to mix the fantastic and the wordly, as I have tried to do here. A Godzilla story could have told the tale of that hospital, glimpsed at the end of the 1st movie, and its efforts to stem the bloody tide. I could have had the M*A*S*H* reunion set in 1969, set during the great hurricane that killed so many in the Deep South. The twain didn't need to meet._

_But I'm mostly happy with what I've done, here. My only regret is that I felt I lacked the knowledge to delve into the set-up and supplying of the makeshift O.R., and the operations._

_But Messrs. Gelbart, Metcalfe, Reynolds, and Alda, et. al., did at least 100 episodes that did that, better than I could hope to. To my mind, there was no story there. From the Movie to Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen in 1983, the O.R. was the arena where death was turned back-what could I offer, there? If I seemed to show Doctor Yamane or the U.S. Military disrespect, it was not my intention. These portrayals, are, I feel, consistent with their portrayals within these two disparate genres._

_In the end, both have characters that are very widely known. Both have passionate advocates as to where the series was strong and where it was weak. Both have continuity problems that could make a grown chronicler cry. Both are also about facing the consequences of human folly. Both series also lasted a LOT longer than anyone would have thought._

_Godzilla is owned by Toho Studios (Who, after 1998's American foray, know all about human folly), and M*A*S*H* is the property of Fox, which once showed a cartoon based on Toho&Tri-Star's 1998 folly that was superior to the big-screen product. Go figure._


	2. The Year That Wasn't

_**The Year That Wasn't**_

_**by Rob Morris**_

_**River Bend, Missouri, December 29, 1954**_

The children, grandchildren and for that matter, Sherman, were gone. It would be sad to spend New Year's Eve without him, but the reunion in Tokyo had become so important to everyone from the 4077th. Besides, it gave Mildred a rare, actually unheard of chance to duck the New Year's Party Circuit and actually have the house to herself. Though Soon-Lee would drop by, solitude would be the norm for a woman who once desired nothing more than for her man to come home.

The worst of the dishes and pans were still soaking, and in this one instance Mildred was content to let them soak. The grease was hard to get off, and she didn't have to be concerned with the house's appearance as much as she normally would. Feeling like a little girl, she went to play with her new toy.

"All I can say is, Thank Heaven for the Winchesters and their overly generous nature when it comes to friends. This tape recorder will help me to no end when it comes to keeping my thoughts. Tape is honest, and is hard to edit, unlike memory. I'm going to remind myself that, in this year of Nineteen-Hundred And Fifty-Four-no one much liked my writing. It was a bitter pill to swallow. At least my friends and family were honest-not that I saw it that way at the time."

"So what do you think, Max?"

Max Klinger loved being a free man, and he loved the Potters. Mrs. Potter had been exactly the woman the Colonel had always described. So it was that Max loved her far too much to be anything less-than totally dishonest.

"Boy, oh, boy, Mrs. P-this is THE best thing I have ever read. Even better than Captain Marvel! The way you took that minor incident with that con artist and turned it into a full-blown trial just-just-just-"

"You didn't like it, did you?"

Max shrugged thoughtfully, and gave up.

"It's not that its bad-after all, I did backslide in the mental department a little bit-not as much as the guy in your story-but I sure put Soon-Lee through it. Now, I didn't end up in jail-"

"You almost did."

"Because being in any-altercation violates my parole. You have me in the psych ward-as a permanent, not outpatient patient-Soon-Lee and me homeless. You have little Wally unnamed for better than six months."

Mildred had put too much work into altering Max's story-character to let it go without a fight.

"Fact-Max, you did almost lose your vets benefits to that scam artist. Fact-Until that witch, Dorian Taylor, showed up, you were in the psych ward more often than not. Final Fact-you and Soon-Lee fought like tigers until arriving at Walter Sherman Cy Young Klinger as the baby's name. My story is just an extrapolation and interpretation of those facts."

Max tried to be gentle as he withdrew.

"Mrs. Potter-Mildred-there was no trial, my second bout with Nutsville didn't last more than three months, and the Missus And I didn't fight more than any other couple when it comes to Wally's name. Oh, and you can stick your attitude about Doctor Taylor-Ma'am. That lady is a certified genius. Her methods of - what'd she call it, genetic acceleration, are gonna change the whole wide world. She says there's a Eugenics War coming, and we better all be on the right side of it."

Max then stalked off, with both himself and Mildred quite upset.

"She's a certified something, Max!"

"Max's anger made me overlook his more valid criticisms-I should never have mentioned Dorian Taylor. I can't help it, though. When Sherman and Max and Francis aren't listening, she talks very plainly and matter-of-factly about building better people. Says she wants to make a Great Khan to rule the whole world. I don't doubt that she could. That frightens me, almost as much as poor Max playing guinea pig to her experiments. Now, on to Soon-Lee. I thought she would like what I wrote. She did not."

"Mildred-is this how you see me? A shrill caricature with an accent? A little fool who would stand by even the Max you have in this story? If I were married to such a man, I would sooner take Wally and return to Korea. I have worked so very hard on my grammar and diction. I still have a far path to travel, but I no longer speak like this-greenhorn-you have written me as."

Mildred's efforts at countering the unintended slight went nowhere fast.

"My dear child, you have come so very far so very fast. But your struggles with our language and our way of life were an inspiration to me in my efforts to capture your character. Its charming and heartening. Soon-Lee, I love being a teacher to you when you need help figuring out this topsy-turvy US of A. It makes me feel I'm making a difference. Tell me, did I do it, did I make a difference?"

Trying to calm down, Soon-Lee nodded.

"Yes. It-was fun."

"Least I could do for the Captain Of Our Bowling Team-oh, my, where did I go wrong, Soon-Lee?"

"Very simple. I am no longer that woman. I am far from being a perfect American wife, this I know. But take the character of the Secretary who tries to seduce my Max."

"Now just wait a minute, Soon-Lee. She's for real."

"Yes, she is. But Max actively avoids her at work, and I see now she is no threat to me, so long as I keep my eyes open. She is a lonely nothing, far closer to the character I have in your stories than I could ever be. Please, Mildred-think how far I have come, merely in calling you Mildred rather than Mrs. Potter. Give me my due. I am not selfish and I ask no more than that."

"I have to keep the story interesting, Soon-Lee."

Soon-Lee would likely never storm out. But the lack of comprehension on Mildred's part had her very close to just that.

"What she failed to tell me, and what I failed to realize, was that the character changes I was making were causing the story to become less, not more, interesting. Sometimes, a surprise tweak can take the whole story onward and upward. But it must all be in character. If Hawkeye Pierce grows a horn, he must react to it in a Hawkeye-manner. That's what Dan Pierce told me anyway, when he placed his Christmas call. It's just about a recognition of basic realities. People remain who they are, almost no matter what. Oddly, though Francis-Father Mulcahy-changed the least in my stories, he had some of the most pointed things to say about them."

"I'm sorry, Mildred, but it glosses over far too much harsh reality for my tastes."

"Francis, not long after Sherm got back, a young soldier threatened us with a gun in our own home, fearful of being sent back to Korea. That's all the harsh reality I care to deal with. I'd like to know just what it is you're talking about. I tell the basics in a very straightforward manner."

"Do You? Forgive me, for I certainly don't mean to be unduly harsh. But Mildred, you edited out the altercation that sent that young, angry surgeon and that surly older surgeon out of the hospital for good. Both Wainwright and the other administrator were embezzling us silly. Their partner-in-crime? The seemingly 'wacky' Alma Cox. The wacky is here, to be sure, but the dark turns-like trying to steal Max's job when hers fell through? You've turned that into a simple seniority issue, burdening Sherman with someone he does not like at all."

Mildred sighed, feeling almost under assault.

"Father-I concede much of my humor derives from Sherman's trials and travails owing to his no longer being head man. But that is quite true to reality. Don't try to deny it."

"Oh, I wouldn't. No, that part is real. My worry is your efforts to find humor in it. I don't question the Lord's plan-well, too often-unless you count my Sister leaving the Order to marry that O'Brien character. Then, my questions were quite vocal. How she could choose-"

"Francis? Sherman?"

"Yes, of course. I was surprised to find that Colonel Potter was not in charge of Pershing General-but thought that surely it would bring out new facets of a man I greatly respect. Yet it's almost as though a challenge meant to reenergize him- ended up enervating him instead. As he has watched that Hospital mishandled time and again, his frustration has started to approach rage-true rage. Lastly- Mildred, the chapter about Radar?"

Mildred Potter actually slammed down her hand.

"No! That boy deserves a happy ending! That little tramp had a fine catch, and turned away from him in a bigoted huff. Cindy betrayed Walter-but my character of Sandy never will. Maybe I'll even make her an Immort-"

Mulcahy's eyes went wide. He hurriedly looked through the pages again.

"Mildred, you didn't! Oh, my! No!"

The Watcher in Mulcahy took over as he tore out the 'Radar' section, and then tore it up in front of Mildred's horrified eyes.

"Francis! That chapter was two months' work! I'll have to ask you to leave."

Father Mulcahy shook his head in disbelief.

"Mildred, if you reveal that Walter is an Immortal-he won't be one very much longer. Please, forget we ever told you the real reason Cindy left him-for his sake."

Still enraged, Mildred held open the front door.

"GET OUT."

"Francis apologized for the way he reacted, but I never did. Poor Walter. If what Francis said is true, then Walter, Doctor Freedman, and probably even Henry Blake's family would have to go into hiding if they were found out. Darned fool stunt on my part. Still, the man was telling me to be more truthful on the one hand and telling me to lie outright on the other. It wasn't long after that Sherman came to me give his two bits-my Sherm has never been satisfied with a paltry two bits."

"Great Thunder, Woman! Are you deliberately trying to alienate everyone I met in Korea?"

Mildred was an immovable object.

"Sherman, they are being impossible. They are dismissing what I write almost as I write it."

Sherman was an irresistible force.

"Well, did you want them to gush all over you or give you their honest opinion? Mildred, these aren't fictional characters. They're us. Why do you feel the need to engage in this booshwa?"

"Oh? And what do you object to about your character?"

"Nothing, really. It provides a humorous perspective on a situation that's given me nothing to laugh about. I'd keep that part."

Mildred was flat-out stunned. She smiled.

"Then you liked the whole story?"

Deflation.

"Nope. Couldn't stand most of it, and one character in particular irritated me straight through to Hades-truth to tell, it got to us all."

"Which character?"

"Oh, this ditzy, addle-headed number. Shrewish, dumb as a board. Filled our car trunk full of potatoes. leaving me without a spare tire. Wanted to see her thrown off a cliff, Lord help me."

Mildred made a last stand the likes of which her family line would not see again until Benjamin Sisko stood against the Borg at Wolf 359. Like her descendant, though, Mildred lost big.

"SHERMAN T. POTTER! I certainly have the right to write my own character as I see fit!"

Sherman was stone-faced. Resistance was futile.

"HORSE-HOCKEY! I will not sit back and let you desecrate the name of the sharpest, brightest, SMARTEST woman-hell, the smartest person, period, I have ever known. Mildred, we can learn to laugh at ourselves, if we try. But I Love You too much to let you sell yourself short. We all do. Honey, treat it as a first effort, and move on. Willya do that for a soldier whose always known who the smarter one was?"

"I was kissing him before we realized it. That old fool. My friends loved me too much, in the end, to give me comforting euphemisms. That includes my very best friend on the face of the Earth. I'm already on a third version. I'm going to keep improving as I go. Because that's how it's done. No need for falsehoods, now. No 'guest appearances' by Colonel Flagg to generate a false interest. Truth can be stranger than..."

A phone call interrupted Mildred, so she stopped recording.

"Dan? Dan Pierce? News From Tokyo? What News? I already have the set warmed up, so let me see if its..."

She dropped the receiver, and stared at the screen. Even the announcer seemed to disbelieve his own words.

_*These scenes, filmed in Tokyo just yesterday and flown to our LA broadcast center, show the apocalyptic happenings in Tokyo. I repeat, reports are confirmed : A giant, prehistoric monster that is called Godzilla is engaged in pitched battle with overwhelmed Japanese Self-Defense Forces. The city is said to be a blazing horror. The creature is over 150 feet tall, and can breathe fire. The current death toll is estimated at well over one million people, and is expected to rise still further. US Service personnel have, for reasons owing to international diplomacy, not engaged the monster. Hospitals are filled to overflowing. More as this story of apocalyptic proportions continues to unfold.* _

Mildred replaced the receiver just as a shaking, once-again pregnant Soon-Lee Klinger came through her front door, little Wally asleep and in tow. They held one another, and they prayed hard for their men to once again return safely. Mildred stared at the television footage, which played long past usual broadcast times.

"Oh, God. Not Again. Please, Please, God, Not Again."

Truth remained stranger than fiction, and 1954 had turned out to be a very strange year indeed. But the healers would all return home, safely.

Eventually, Mildred Potter would be a published author-with some very odd help.

_**2368 - USS ENTERPRISE - D**_

"Here's To the happiest couple I know, on the occasion of their first wedding anniversary, Miles and Keiko O'Brien!"

With that, Will Riker handed the expectant couple a package, and bid them unwrap it. Miles and Keiko smiled as they did just that. Keiko's eyes went wide.

"The Edited History of The M*A*S*H* 4077th-Commander, Miles and I both have ancestors who were in that medical unit-they served with the Pierces-ooh, there's a section about Gojira in 1954!"

Riker suddenly regretted not making a copy for himself.

"There is? Gojira?"

Miles looked over the book's author credits, and puzzled.

"Well, now I know who Mildred Potter was, of course-but I've never heard of a 'Jacob Sisko'. Wonder who he was?"

Eight years later, as the saying goes, the people from Starfleet Temporal Affairs had kittens-again.

_This is dedicated to the stellar first season of AfterM*A*S*H* and Barbara Townsend, the actress who played Mildred Potter as we always knew her. As for the second season-let's just say it's for seasons like that one fanfic was invented._


End file.
